These Demons Of Forever
by invertedrainbow
Summary: In which The Colonel gets drunk enough to explain to Pudge that he was still in love with Alaska even after everything while hiding his own feelings. C/P


**these demons of forever**

* * *

While you are willing to admit that the prank was worth to be called "Alaska's brainchild", all that actually mattered for you was Pudge's afterglow.

It was Alaska. All Alaska. She was the one who planned everything beforehand. You just executed it like you did in Barn Night and you've never seen Pudge so proud of himself. You can't help but feel the same way too. Alaska would have been so proud.

* * *

The drive was nerve-wracking, and all you wanted was to throw yourself out of the car and leave at once because this is exactly what Alaska felt, and you couldn't bear the whole intrusion part, but Pudge was with you as you shifted gears, going impossibly faster, and when you passed by the point where she died, you started slowing down, feeling relief and fear and happiness and anger all at the same time, and he turned to look at Pudge and he knew he was feeling the same thing.

The tears were impossible to stop when you held each other for your dear life.

You started to wonder how Alaska could even go through all that.

* * *

You had a fake ID made because Alaska was gone, and you still needed your vodka and cigarettes. You figured you should quit the whole vices thing now that you had your chance, but you wanted to live your life the same way even after Alaska's death: smoke within your lungs and alcohol infused in your liver.

You often bring Pudge along so he could help carry the shit you hoard for the semester, which were five cartons of cigarettes, ten bottles of Strawberry Hill and two bottles of vodka. It wouldn't have worked without Pudge there; he was adorable like a bunny and the shopkeeper liked him. Besides, you figured the first semester with Alaska gone would be the worst for Pudge, but simply he simply gaped at the stash and asked why.

"We need to get drunk more," You lied, your grin somewhat convincing. Of course you can't tell him that it's all for him, but he knew anyway, judging from that look on his face. You both share a sad smile and drive away quickly.

Arriving Creek, you ninja-ed their way to their shared room and kept the stash in the bathroom for a while. While you made your legendary ambrosia in front of Pudge, he took out a bag of chips he got from the vending machine near Coosa Liquors and started munching away. You grabbed a handful from the bag, to which he responded nothing.

You worked in silence as he munched as loud as he could, and when you stacked the milk jug in the mini-fridge, he suddenly asked, "Do you miss her?"

"That goes without saying," You answered without skipping a beat. He replied nothing again, but you knew he was thinking. You waited for him to talk, and when he didn't, you grabbed a bottle of Strawberry Hill from the bathroom. It was still cold, so you opened it immediately and sipped, passing it to Pudge afterwards.

"I think I was in love with her," He suddenly said, and you let out a bitter laugh.

"_Was?_ Mind your tense." You mumbled, to which he raised a brow, as if it were a question. "You still are. Christ, I'm not even drunk enough to explain this shit to you," You took a swig. "Maybe later."

You and Pudge took alternate turns on drinking from the bottle, your level of intoxication raising unspeakably fast. Maybe because you haven't drank in a while? You shrug off the thought and watch him turn pink. You remember The Eagle, and catching a whiff of this room would cause you your future, so you turned off the lights before the curfew itself.

Pudge was a silent drinker. He simply watches everything and does nothing about it. You knew he was getting drunk by the time you opened the second bottle because let's face it, the Barn Night may have survived you until the umpteenth bottle, but there were five of you and now there's two of you, and 1/5 of the people in the Barn Night was a strong drinker, and that 1/5 is now dead.

It sucked that everything revolved around Alaska. It sucked that Pudge loved her. Loves. Whatever.

You took a big gulp.

You knew years ago that you weren't straight. You told your mom about it, even, but she supported you for everything. You never even hid it, either. Sara was the first woman you actually loved, and now that that's over, you're back to square one. Mainly confused, though. Pudge was to blame.

"Drunk enough to explain yet?" He asked then, and you weren't. You decided to indulge him anyway.

"Miles, if I were to put it in the simplest terms, which I will because I am intoxicated enough to slur on my words," You started, watching the amused buffoon hide a grin. You ignored him. "You are in love with a living, breathing Alaska. The one that pranks the hell out of people, the one who would take the fall for anyone, the one who would make-out with you even if she had a boyfriend. You are in love with the sins she made, and I know this religion crap is way overdue, but you loved the sinner in her.

"You are in love with the false idea you made. You are in love with the assumption you made of her: that she would drop everything because she actually liked you. Don't get me wrong, I believed she did, but what's the point? Why would you fall in love with the dead when you know for a fact that you'll forget her soon enough? Think of Alaska's face. Can you remember her fully, or are you simply staring at the silhouette of her face?"

Pudge was silent through your ramblings, his face blank and expressionless. You continued.

"You are in love with the ghost that haunts you until today, because you think that your primary goal that night was to save her. You weren't able to do so, but here's the deal: so did we. But you believe that you were the only one who can save her that night, and because you couldn't, you have no choice but to love her, because that's all you can do.

"Pudge, _goddamnit_. She was our friend too. I loved her too. But I believe that you are fixated with the idea that she told you everything there is to know about her. That you fully understood her. Trust me on this: she is an enigma. You didn't know her any better that we actually did. She didn't need you that night. She didn't need any of us. She is conceited and we should hate her for that, but we loved her, Pudge. We loved her. And now, you still do."

You passed him the bottle and he downed what was left in it. He gave you an assuring smile to tell you that he wasn't mad, but instead there were tears in his eyes, and he looked like he was in deep pain.

"I wanted to get mad at you," He finally admitted to you, after months of knowing beforehand. "I wanted to get mad at you for not understanding, but you did. Of course," You slowly closed in to his proximity; he didn't seem to mind. "Of course you knew," He glared at you for knowing.

You cupped his cheek softly, wanting to get mad at him in return for loving a ghost. But this was Pudge; Miles "Pudge" Halter, the scrawny new kid you never thought you'd come to care so much for, and now he's being vulnerable and crying when he should have when Alaska died. You feel absolutely special now, and before the spell breaks, you kissed him then and there, knocking down the empty Strawberry Hill bottles.

Scared, that's what you were. The kiss was experimental as fuck because you've never kissed a boy before, but now you're surer than anything else in the world. This was right. This was wrong. You pulled away for a short second to stare at him; his flushed cheeks, his closed eyes, and you swear, he looked as scared as you were. You dove in again, sucking on his lower lip long enough for him to groan, and the smart ass that you were, you took advantage of that to kiss him deeper. Hormones suck, you figured then.

"When—"

"I don't know, _damnit_, I don't know," You shushed him, because what's the use of words? Uncertainty sucked. You couldn't explain this even if you tried.

"I don't understand—"

"Neither do I, Pudge. Christ. I may be smart but I'm bad at this, you know that," You told him. He was fiddling with the hem of his damp, rumpled shirt. You never noticed he drank so sloppily. He smelled like goddamned Strawberry Hill. Almost as strong as Alaska did in Barn Night. "You know what happened with Sara," You decided to say before you start thinking of Alaska again. "What I had with Sara was amazing, sure, but it wasn't great. You know that."

He knew. He was there at the great night of the Opera. You groaned.

"This is gonna change a lot of things, isn't it?"

"You don't even know," You told him, snarky as the tone was, you didn't really care. You were getting pissed at yourself for wanting to kiss him again. "This is all your fault, you know."

"How is this my fault?"

"You can't even stop loving her, even after everything. It's getting me riled up," You groaned while you watched him open a bottle of Strawberry Hill for you. He passed the bottle and you let the alcohol burn as it passed through your throat. "I envy her. She was such a sensation for me to forget so easily."

He agreed with a nod.

"Can I kiss you again?" You asked, and you knew you were pushing your chances.

"Yes," He answered, and you did. He started kissing back, and that made your stomach make knots. It was uncomfortably nice. You're in love with him, you thought. You would die for this guy. "Things don't have to change, though," He mumbled while you kissed him bare. You make a questioning noise and he continued. "We can try if this would work, and if it doesn't… well, to hell with that."

You couldn't agree more, and you just kissed him some more, because if there was one thing you'll never deprive yourself of, that's kissing. You liked kissing. You liked Pudge. Mix them together and you have your perfect drug.

"Chip," He called out, as if you weren't presently there. "Chip, I'm _falling_." Figuratively, you wished. You always liked it when he called you Chip. The Colonel was more of a group nickname. Chip was a close term. An exclusive term. You loved that.

"I know. Don't fight it," You answered, and rest assured, he didn't.

* * *

**A/N: **Title is from No Curtain Call by Maroon 5. Looking For Alaska may be the greatest book I've read, even with TFIOS to compare. It just speaks a lot. I'm literally speechless right now. I don't know what to tell you other than I'm still alive and this fic might be my favorite of all the things I've written. I want to give the book justice. I don't know if I did. Feedback is highly appreciated, by the way. Good day.


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